


Letters From New York

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Absence, Angst, F/M, Love Letters, Separations, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace's letters to Tommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters From New York

_Dear Tommy,_

_New York feels colder than Birmingham. Strange to think you’re waking and going about your day, and here I am. The hours and the miles between us, all the sea to drown that waiting. All during the voyage I stood on deck and wished you were there beside me._

_I’m waiting. Have you made up your mind yet?_

_Grace_

*  *  *

_Dear Tommy,_

_Have you ever seen a street busier than a circus? This city is alive, all on its own. When I walk down the streets, I can feel it in the pavement beneath my feet. It snowed yesterday. It’s already turned to gray._

_I’m writing this in a café, drinking a cup of coffee and watching the people bustle by. Yesterday’s paper is spread over the table. I’ve circled several advertisements. New York is full of opportunities and I intend to take advantage of them._

_I’m waiting._

_Grace_

_*  *  *_

_Dear Tommy,_

_It’s spring now. The park is arrayed in green, new blossoms on all the flowers. I bought a bouquet of posies from a woman on the corner on my way home this afternoon. Their scent fills my tiny apartment, making me feel like I could open the window and stand in an open field. That I could be there, with you._

_I like to think we'd go on a picnic. We’d pack a basket, and a bottle of champagne and drive somewhere away from the city. You’d spread out the blanket and I’d unpack the lunch. You’d open the champagne. We’d never drink it though. We’d be too busy._

_These are the things I think of when it’s spring, Tommy._

_How much longer?_

_*  *  *_

_Dear Tommy,_

_I’m sorry, it’s been so long. I’ve been busy. You probably haven’t noticed. Do I sound bitter? Perhaps I am. Patience was never my strong suit._

_I went for a walk through Central Park earlier. All summer I walked there, thinking of how I would take you round, and show you how pretty things were, even in the middle of a city. And now it’s autumn, and the leaves are falling. And I walk on alone, and wait for the first shadows of twilight to cross my path._

_I told myself I wouldn’t make demands of you, but I changed my mind. Or possibly this isn’t a demand, but a plea. A question. A hope. Something, I’m no longer sure of._

_Why haven’t you come?_

_I’m waiting._

_Grace_

_*  *  *_

_Tommy,_

_Why won’t you answer?_

_Grace_

_*  *  *_

_Tommy,_

_I’m waiting._

_Grace  
_

_*  *  *  
_

_Dear Tommy,_

_I heard a swallow last night, standing out on my fire escape. I was having a glass of wine, and thinking of the future. There’s so much left to be said, things left undone. I could place my hand on a globe and spin it till the countries blur beneath my fingertips, and everywhere I turned, there would be somewhere I would like to see. Some place new to be explored. You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you, Tommy. You could go anywhere your heart desires._

_Your heart must desire something else then._

_The night is young, and so am I. I’ve put on a new dress. It goes with my eyes, and I've dabbed on perfume. Why not? _Drink your whiskey alone, and drink it well, Tommy._  
_

_The night is young, and I’m going out._

_Grace_

_*  *  *_

_Tommy,_

_I know you’re not going to read this. I know you’ve not read the others. I could be saying anything and you’ve turned your back, standing far away from me._

_I’ve met a man. He’s kind and gentle, and he’s not you, but he’s here. He doesn’t let me wonder whether I’m a fool for wanting more. He doesn’t twist my heart and leave it broken._

_He’s not you._

_Grace_

*  *  *

_Tommy,_

_I’ve waited, and your silence remains cold as the grave._

_You have to say goodbye to the dead sometimes. So this is my farewell to you then._

_…Tommy, there are so many things I still want to say, but you’ve made your feelings clear enough. Some might say silence is not a true answer, but to me it is. It’s as though you’ve stood on a rooftop and shouted across the sea to me. No, you’re not coming. You’ve made your decision and you’ll stand by that on your own shore, and I’ll be here._

_Goodbye Tommy._

_Grace_


End file.
